About last night

Oh, guys. Yesterday seemed to go so well, and then last night happened. Rounds went quickly, and we made some progress on discharges. Traffic wasn't that bad. Elle at her dinner voraciously. Everything sounds great, right? Except the part where I decided to make beef stroganoff for dinner.

And sliced open my left index finger with my shiny new Wusthof knife. So I stopped chopping and held pressure while Nick chopped. And then I kept holding pressure while he ate. And I still kept holding pressure while he took my snickerdoodle bars out of the oven. And while he (yes, he actually did this) fed me my dinner. And then, a mere 2 hours later, I admitted defeat and went to the mini St Luke's ER here in Pearland for my first ER visit ever. Ninety minutes later, I found myself the proud owner of 4 brand-spankin' new stitches. Here's a funny thing... turns out the ER doc who sewed me up is married to one of the eye doctors to which we frequently refer our patients, so we had lots of things to chat about while he worked the needle and thread.

And it finally, finally stopped bleeding. So now typing is a little awkward, but I'm on my way to good as new. And that's all she wrote.

My stupid mouth

Oh, my mouth is gonna get me in trouble. Way back in the day, I was quiet and shy and hardly talked. It was better that way. But as the years go by, I just get louder and more, well, direct with my opinions. My father used to tell me my mouth would get me in trouble, the way I just flat out said what I thought. And I remember thinking he was crazy because I didn't do that. Well, I didn't back then, but maybe he could see the future because I sure do now.

So I've been letting my real feelings show a little too much on consult service rounds, and I decided I was gonna reign it in this week. You know, be more professional as a good example to my residents and students. And then, not even 10 minutes in, I made a face. And everyone knew the face meant I disagreed with what the other people had done, so it wasn't really any better than actually saying the thing I was thinking.

This isn't just limited to work, though. I've had multiple people comment to me in the last few months how with Beth, you always know what you're getting or just what I'm thinking or what I really truly feel or blah blah blah. My neurotic mental jury is still out regarding whether that's a compliment or a criticism. And I can't find a verse in the Bible where it mentions the fruit of the Spirit of calling it like you see it. So I'll keep working to rectify my desire to be kind and benevolent with my belief that you don't do anyone any favors by beating around the bush or sugar-coating stuff. Feel free to let me know how I'm doing, but be warned that opinion may earn you an earful from yours truly.

And that's all I got for today. I've got a couple good work stories, but adequately de-identifying the involved parties would kill the punchline. Sorry. Until next time, cyber-friends.

The new flamingo shoe game

I was getting dressed last weekend for a girls' night out dinner last weekend, and I walked out in my navy leopard print silk tunic with the maroon skinny jeans and two different shoes. Well, the same shoe, actually, just in 2 colors - royal blue and teal. As per the usual routine, I asked Nick which shoe looked better, in a "it doesn't match it goes" sort of way, one leg at a time. Nick paused to ponder his response; you see, he's learned that if he answers too quickly I'll fuss at him for just saying something and not even thinking about it. So now he fakes it by pausing for a few seconds. But anyway, while he was "thinking,", Ellison jumped up and ran over to me and grabbed the toe of my teal shoe.

I think she wants me to wear the teal one.

Ellison then starts yanking on the teal shoe. I kick it off so she can hold it.

Hmm, seems like she really likes that shoe.

Child of mine then takes off running into my bedroom and throws the teal shoe in the closet.

Or maybe she really doesn't like that shoe and wants me to wear the blue ones. Looks like Nick might be in luck. I might have a new contestant to play Bethie's flamingo shoe game. And he thought he wanted all boys.

One. More. Day.

In residency I used to tell myself I could anything for a month, and I always did just that. Well let me tell you, this last month has surely tested whether I've still got what it takes.

This month I...
Raised my voice, just a little, and just a few times.
Faked it till I made it.
Never guessed, looked it up.
Carried a toaster into the hospital.
Won a battle with a consulting attending.
Laid awake at night worrying if I'd hurt somebody.
Passed on my 4 rules to survive residency and the nickel-dime-quarter-dollar approach to right heart caths to a captive audience.
Got to work at 5:45 and/or stayed there until 8:00, more than once.
Started getting comments about my baby belly.
Kinda sorta almost missed a few moments (well, mostly people) from my residency.
Wore lipstick one time.
Rambled during morning report to give the resident a reprieve from a verbal pelting.

So all said and done I'm surviving so far. As long as the last day doesn't get me. And then I will have exactly 334 days until I do it all over again.

Hump day, take 2

Sorry guys, I don't know what happened to that last post. I promise I wrote it, but Blogger just ate it. So here it is, again.

This Wednesday wasn't just any hump day. It was October 16, which is the exact middle of October. And that matters because the exact half-way point of October is the exact half-way mark for my time as a general medicine ward attending. Thirty-one straight days of work is proving to be a brutal task, so I'm looking for any excuse to celebrate. In honor of the occasion, here's the first funny work story in a long, long while.

My residents and I walk into a patient's room, where said patient is rifling through a bag of pill bottles.

Me: Whadya doing?
Patient: Nothing. Just looking.
Me: But why do you need your pill bottles? Remember, the nurse gives you all the pills you need while you're here. Were you taking extra pills?
Patient: [awkward pause, deadpan face with sidelong gaze] Noooo.
Me: Would you tell me if you were?
Patient: [same facial expression] Yessssss.
Me: So then what are you doing with that bag of pill bottles?
Patient: Looking for a Band-Aid.
Me: Why do you need a Band-Aid? Are you bleeding? If you're bleeding we need to know about it.
Patient: No, I just wanted one.
Me: But why?
Patient: [still that same expression] Just in case.

Oh, well. In that case. Why didn't he just say so? I was too amused to ask the obvious follow-up question.... what endeavor has he planned that he anticipates will necessitate the use of a Band-Aid? I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Since when is tired back in style?

So this hasn't quite been a week of Mondays, but it's certainly been a week of early days. Early, early days. Way back when, when I was just a young whipper-snapper intern, one of my residents used to roll in for rounds about 15 minutes before the attending showed up. (She could get away with this because the other intern and I had our stuff together.) She told me it was because since intern year she'd implemented a rule that she doesn't wake up before 5:00 am. I remember laughing ruefully, thinking that day would never come for me.
And then it did. Not in residency, and not first year of fellowship. And definitely not right after Elle was born. But sometime last year, I sort of unofficially decided I wouldn't get up before 5:00 am anymore. Because I was too old and too far in my medical training to do that again.
Ha. Then came being an attending. I thought my new boss lady status would earn me a few extra minutes of shut eye, but that just hasn't been the case. So I've been up at 4:30 two days in a row. Bleh. This morning, I pre-rounded super early (before the residents were even there) and actually crossed paths with multiple surgeons. That's how you know you're there too early, if you see surgeons outside the OR. Fortunately, tomorrow is Saturday. So while I still have to go in (just like every single day of this incredibly long 31-day month), at least I have the power to set the time for rounds.
Good night. No really. Good night. I'm getting in bed.

My inaugural session

So I've officially been a medicine attending for a week now. And can I just tell you, it's weird. Just so weird. And a lot of work. I mean, I sleep in my own bed now, but these are still some long days. And even though the faces are different, the problems and politics are just the same. No stories of hilarity quite yet. Mostly just lots of feeling incompetent because I don't remember as much as I'd hoped I would. And that's not fishing for compliments; it's the truth. Somewhere around 6 or8 months ago I went from being a better medicine resident than rheumatologist to the other way around. Now if it doesn't involve prednisone, I feel like a fish out of water.
Thankfully I've only had a handful of panicky moments when I really, truly have no idea what to do. Like this one. Last weekend on rounds a guy was still having fever despite our treatment, and I didn't know why. So we made a change. And the same thing happened the next day. So we made another change. And I laid awake that night in bed, wondering what on earth I would tell them to do the next day if he were still febrile because I literally couldn't think of any rational test to run or medication to add. I couldn't think of anything to bluff my way through it or even who to consult for help. I mean, his problem seemed so obvious, and the plan was appropriate. Why wasn't he responding? Who was the real attending, and when was he gonna show up and tell us what to do?
So I woke up the next morning and found the attending when I looked in the mirror. There is no rescue. The buck really does stop here. But you know what? I got to work, and that guy's fever was gone. Thank goodness. Eight days down, 23 to go.